


the one where Tony has insomnia

by pure1magination



Series: Stony drabbles [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Insomnia, M/M, Massage, Misunderstandings, POV Tony Stark, Sexual Tension, Steve Rogers is a little shit, Tony Stark has a coffee addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 03:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7669006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pure1magination/pseuds/pure1magination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or, as Tony would title it, the one where Tony is trying to make Pepper a completely perfect birthday present, and Captain Hotness throws him off schedule by trying to make him sleep, even though everything is fine and Tony totally has this under control</p>
            </blockquote>





	the one where Tony has insomnia

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually the first one written for this series, but I put it third because it's the only one so far that isn't pre-slash. (meaning, these two idiots finally break the sexual tension)

“Augh! Sonuva-!” Tony looks down at his coffee-splattered shirt. A brown dribble runs down towards his toe. “Seriously?” This is the third cup of coffee he’s managed to splatter on himself in the past [he checks his phone] five hours. Five hours?! “Shit!” He only has four more hours until Pepper wakes up, and he’s nowhere  _ near _ finished. Tony pours himself another cup of coffee and is dumping sugar into it when a voice behind him causes him to dump about three times as much sugar into it as he meant to, and he almost knocks the damned thing over  _ again. _

“-up this early?”

Tony whirls around too fast and makes himself dizzy. He pulls a hand dramatically down his face. “Jesus Christ, Rogers! We need to get you a bell.”

Steve Rogers raises a golden-brown eyebrow. “Sorry,” he says, clearly not sorry. The little shit. He strides into the room like he owns the place, all majesty and rippling pecs, somehow magically awake at this godawful hour of four-something in the morning. Which wouldn’t seem so awful if it weren’t the third time he’d seen the clock say four-something since the last time Tony had gotten some actually half-decent shuteye. But he was fine. It’s fine. There’s just three of everything when he stands somewhere for too long. No big deal. 

Steve gives him a sidelong glance, one majestic hand on the handle to the refrigerator. “Just not used to having company in here this early.” He glances down at Tony’s shirt, then up at his face. An adorable little crease forms between his obnoxiously perfect eyebrows. Stupid perfect face. “Have you slept?”

“Yep!” Tony lies confidently. “Totally.” He picks up his cup of coffee and takes a huge swig.

“Not in the past thirty-seven hours,” interjects JARVIS’s voice from the ceiling.

“Um, excuse me?” Tony frowns at the ceiling. “No one asked you.”

Steve frowns. “Tony…” he starts in his Concerned-For-You Dad Lecture voice.

Tony holds up his free hand to ward him off. “I’m fine.”

“Scanners indicate increased levels of adrenaline and serotonin. Sir has not slept properly since last Tuesday.”

“Shut it, JARVIS!” Tony points a spoon at the ceiling. “I will disassemble your robot ass.”

“As far as I am aware,” that smug-ass voice continues, “I  _ have _ no ass.”

Steve’s hand falls on Tony’s shoulder. Steve is standing in front of him in full Dad mode. God  _ dammit. _

“Tony…” That voice is so heavily concerned, it may as well be made of cinderblocks. Anvils. Something  _ very _ heavy.

Tony pushes him away. “I’m fine!”

He can feel Steve’s eyes on him, even though he’s very pointedly looking away. In fact, his back is turned. There. -Nope. Not better. Tony rolls his eyes at his life in general. Steve I-Care-About-You Rogers has his Intense Focus vision on. 

“Is it the nightmares?” Steve says in an entirely too-serious voice.

Tony shifts uncomfortably and waves a hand. “It’s nothing.” Tony takes a sip of coffee. Too hot, too black, forgot creamer. He takes another sip.  _ Oh well. _ He pretends he meant to do that. “It’s just this little thing I’m making for Pepper. No big. Shouldn’t take more than a few hours. Just a few kinks to work out.” He waves a hand like it’s no big deal, further reinforcing his nonchalance, because  _ everything is fine. _

“A few hours?” Steve’s voice says, very low and  _ very _ close behind him. That should  _ not _ be so arousing. “Then why haven’t you slept in two days?”

“A day and a  _ half _ , smartass.” Tony punctuates this with his spoon, straight into Rogers’ perfect pecs. Goddamned perfect man-boobs. “And I  _ have _ slept. J.A.R.V.I.S. is just exaggerating.”

“Exaggerating is not in my nature,” J.A.R.V.I.S. calmly interjects. “Napping for fifteen minutes on your lab equipment does not count as ‘proper sleep.’ According to Sir’s own files, this is considered ‘a short nap.’”

“Fuck off, J.A.R.V.I.S.”

Captain Perfect-Hands grips Tony by the shoulders. He has his Concerned face on. “Tony, that isn’t enough sleep.”

Tony tries to escape, but the guy has hands like a steel trap. “Well that’s tough. I need to finish this. So if you’ll excuse me-”

“Whatever it is you’re working on, I’m sure it can wait.”

“See,  _ that’s _ where you’re wrong, Cap. I don’t know if you’re familiar with the term ‘deadlines’, but let me explain it for you--”

Steve sighs. “I know what a deadline is, Tony. But I’m sure Pepper will understand.”

“No.” Tony stands his ground. He has a plan, and it’s going to be fantastic. It’s going to be  _ perfect. _ Pepper will think he’s the most amazing person ever. She’ll be eternally grateful. But Captain Hardass will never understand. He just doesn’t get the best friend thing. “Look, I’m sorry about your friend Blinky-”

“Bucky.”

“-Whatever. I’m sorry about your friend Bonkers, but I  _ have _ a best friend, and she is alive and well, and tomorrow-” Tony winces. “- _ today _ is her birthday. If I don’t have this finished for her today, she has no present. No present, shitty friend, forever disappointed.” Tony can’t  _ believe _ he has to illustrate this concept, but somehow Steve Serious-Face Rogers  _ still _ doesn’t seem to grasp this simple concept.

“She’s your best friend, Tony. If anyone will understand, it’s her.”

“See,  _ that’s _ where you’re wrong.” Tony pokes at Cap’s chest, and  _ wow, _ those pecs are hard. Tony stares at his finger for half a second in sheer awe.  _ Wow. _ -Tony blinks. Right. He was proving Cap wrong. “I give her a present late  _ every _ year, Cap. And every goddamned year, Pep gives me this  _ look. _ Like everything’s okay because she understands because she  _ expects _ to be disappointed. I have a  _ reputation _ to fix. I can’t just give her a gift card to her favorite dress shop, or tickets to Malibu again. I need to get this  _ right.” _

“And you will,” Cap promises firmly, “But first you need some sleep.”

_ “Wrong.” _

Cap spins Tony around by the shoulders and comes up closer behind him. He can feel the heat radiating off of Captain Perfect-Chest.  _ “Right,” _ Cap commands right into his goddamned ear. Tony’s vision unfocuses for a moment.  _ Holy shit _ he’s close.

“Sleep will have to wait.” Tony is pleased with how strong his voice comes out. “I just had coffee.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to watch you until you get tired,” Cap fucking _murmurs,_ ** _right_** next to his ear. His huge warm hands run slowly down Tony’s upper arms and does Cap have _any_ idea how hot that is because god _damn._ “-How about we take this to the living room?” Cap asks in a low voice that sends happy electricity straight to Tony’s groin.

“Living room,” Tony echoes. “Yeah.”

He belatedly realizes that Captain Perfect-Pants managed to manipulate him as he is marched to the couch like some vacant-minded drone. Those huge, perfect hands push Tony down onto the couch, and Tony puts up token resistance, but part of him is  _ really _ curious just what kind of manipulation tactics he can elicit from an apparently boundary-ignorant and very friendly Cap.

“All right,” Tony lies, half-formed thoughts racing, “but I really can’t sleep without a massage.” He stretches. His back cracks right on cue. He tries not to look too pleased about this. He grunts for effect. “Been in the lab for two days; badly in need of spinal realignment. Too much pressure between the discs. Probably have compressed nerves, stiff muscles, might’ve pulled a tendon here or there,” Tony rambles while Cap settles obligingly behind him. His words come to an abrupt halt when Captain Perfect-Hands starts running two very warm palms up Tony’s back.

“Like this?” Cap asks in an adorably self-conscious voice like he doesn’t know  _ exactly _ what he’s fucking doing.

“Yeah,” Tony says, as nonchalant as he can muster. “Maybe a little harder. I’m not made of glass, y’know, Cap.” He has to repress a shudder as those perfect hands immediately press harder and start kneading his muscles. Tony wants nothing more than to lean forward and slump into a happy pile, but he keeps up a running critique of “little higher” “little harder” and “little to the left” like he doesn’t want to marry Cap’s hands right here, right now.  _ -God _ that feels amazing.

And that goddamned perfect specimen responds to every minute critique without a second thought, fully dedicated to giving Tony the best massage of his goddamned life.

Tony realizes that he has slumped forward, and purposefully sits up and rotates his shoulders one at a time, then together a couple times. Cap’s warm, warm hands fall away, a silent indicator that he is done. 

“Feel better?” Cap asks in a very low voice that sounds  _ entirely _ too intimate, alone with him in this dark room, sitting on a couch, inches away from each other, with no one else probably awake, and  _ oh _ Tony could have fun with this.

“Eh.” Tony waves his hand. “Had better.”

Cap sighs. “I guess I’ll have to study that online.”

“Cap!” Tony says with mock-surprise. “You use the  _ internet? _ I didn’t know you had it in you!” He smacks a hand down on Cap’s shoulder. Bit of a mistake; now that he’s touching it, he  _ really _ wants to lean on it. But he takes his hand away before that thought can show on his poker face.

Steve Sassypants Rogers has raised an eyebrow and is smirking in a way he has no business doing. “It’s the least I can do, after you installed it on my laptop, my tablet,  _ and _ my Starkphone.”

“It was already there, Cap. You just didn’t know how to use it.”

Sassypants splays a hand dramatically over his perfect chest. “And I would have been  _ so _ helpless without you. How can I  _ ever _ thank you?”

“We could make out.”

Half a second passes, and Tony realizes his brain-to-mouth filter has malfunctioned. He slaps on a brave poker face, ready to pretend he was joking  _ way _ more than he was actually joking. This was a bad decision. He should have run away to the lab when he had the chance. Steve had taken his hands off him; Tony could have totally bolted and locked Rogers out of the elevator and been at the lab in eighteen seconds flat.  _ Why the fuck hadn’t he bolted?! _

“...I don’t think Pepper would like that,” comes the eventual response.

Tony blinks. “Pepper?”

Steve cups the back of his neck and looks away, visibly awkward. “Isn’t she your… your dame? -Your gal?” He corrects, cheeks coloring. “Your…” He searches for the term. “-girlfriend?”

_ “Pepper?!” _ Tony barks. Oh man. Oh man, this is like  _ Christmas. _ “You thought I was dating  _ Pepper?!” _

“Well,” Steve hedges, shifting uncomfortably. “I did. Right up until you laughed just now and said that.” He shifts again, color spreading up to his forehead and out to his ears. Oh man, he’s  _ adorable! _

“Pepper and I are just friends,” Tony says, deeply amused. “-No, wait.” In honor to Pepper, he has to give her more credit than that.  _ “Best _ friends. -Well, Rhodey is my best friend. Pepper is… She’s like my Anne.” 

Steve stares at him blankly.

“-Okay, I guess you haven’t seen Parks and Rec. -My Jiminy Cricket then. --No? No Pinocchio? -God  _ dammit _ Rogers, we need to get you culturally educated!”

“Sorry,” Steve says uncomfortably, still quite red. He’ll match his spangly outfit if he stays like that. Tony kind of wants to make him blush like that in the battlefield now, just to see if they’re really the same color. It’s hard to tell in this lighting. 

Tony sighs dramatically. “She’s like a best friend, but  _ more. _ Like a sibling. Except better.”

“Like Bucky,” Steve says quietly, and the color has faded, and he’s gotten oddly serious.

Tony doesn’t like that look. It gives him rocks in his stomach. Steve isn’t allowed to look like he cares that much about someone else. It’s not fair. Bucky lost his chance when he died in the ‘40s. “Sure.” Tony waves the name away blithely and tries very hard not to look jealous. “Like Borat.” Steve opens his mouth to correct him with a very serious look on his face, but Tony runs over whatever he was going to say. “But the point is, she’s  _ special. _ She is one of a kind. I cannot live my life without her. And I need to give her something that  _ says _ that, and I need to give it to her  _ on time. _ ” He tries to impress the importance of this on Steve.

Steve’s eyes are far away and tragic, but he seems to understand. “It needs to be personal,” he agrees, and he sounds  _ way _ too sad.

“Yes.” Tony’s brain scrambles for a way to yank Cap out of the ‘40s and make him sassy again. “Which is why I need to get back to the lab. Right now.” Tony stands.

Cap  _ grabs his hand _ and pulls him back down. 

Tony stares off into the distance, stunned. “Touchy much, Cap? Anyone ever have a talk to you about personal boundaries? You know, I have half a mind to go to Fury about sexual harassment.”

“Says the guy who asked if we could make out.”

“Damn. I was hoping you’d forget that.”

“Were you?”

And there’s this  _ look _ on Steve’s face that Tony can’t quite read, and  _ holy shit. _ He can’t tell if Steve is kidding. “Since when did  _ you _ get a poker face?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “You really think I made it through World War II as a costumed superhero  _ without _ ever lying to anyone?”

“Why Cap! I’m almost proud.”

The eyebrow notches up further. “Gee. What’d it take to actually make you proud?” Steve’s Brooklyn accent has come back in full; he is in Super Sass mode. 

Tony  _ loves _ this. He goes for ‘aloof.’ “Well,” Tony draws out the word. He pretends to think about it. “You  _ could _ make out with me.”

Steve snorts.  _ “That _ would make you  _ proud?” _

Tony shrugs a shoulder and makes the Obama-meme Not-Bad face. “Probably.”

Steve chuckles low and leans closer and for a moment there Tony thinks he may actually go for it, but then it turns out Cap was just re-settling on the couch. He leans back again, making himself comfortable. “Too bad I’m not actually that interested in trying to make you proud.”

Tony strikes out an Oh-Darn fist. “Worth a shot.”

The eyebrow goes up again. “You really want to make out with me?”

“Maybe.” Tony won’t give an inch unless Steve will. But if Steve gives an inch… Damn. Tony will take every inch. In his mouth, in his hand, up his ass, probably. He’s not picky. He’s more than willing to give Steve a few ‘inches’ as well. Inches sound great right now.

Poker face, poker face, poker face, poker face.

Steve is leaning closer, tilting his head. Stormy blue eyes are fixed directly on Tony’s irises, pulling on them like tractor beams until it’s impossible for Tony to look away. That is some  _ madly _ intense focus. Tony would almost be flattered if it didn’t feel like Captain Rogers’ irises were picking him apart into tiny little pieces so he could examine each one and learn its secrets. “Really?” he says levelly.

Tony swallows. “Maybe.” He tries to sound like he doesn’t care. It mostly works. “What’s it to you? I mean, you have  _ seen _ you, right? Who  _ wouldn’t _ want to make out with a literally perfect specimen? All those bulging muscles, that square jaw. You look like you walked right off of a magazine. Maybe a  _ pornographic _ magazine. Not that I read those. Not that that’s any of your business--  _ why _ are you so close right now?”

Steve’s face is inches away and that focus has not gone down at all. Instead of answering, Steve says “Trying to tell if you’re lying” in a  _ very _ low voice. 

“Why would I lie to you about this?” Tony babbles. “God knows how you’re so oblivious to your own attractiveness.”

“They had mirrors in the ‘40s, Tony.”

“So you  _ are _ aware. You little shit. You wear those tight-ass shirts on purpose.”

“I wear them because Natasha bought them for me.”

“God bless Natasha Romanov.”

“-and it’s rude to refuse gifts from friends,” Steve finishes, really weirdly close. Their noses are almost touching. Steve’s glance  _ definitely _ just flicked down at Tony’s lips.

Tony licks his lips. He glances down at Steve’s. [They’re  _ there! _ ] “Well would you look at that. Captain Manners has an ego.”

“You like my shirts?” Steve counters.

“Who  _ doesn’t _ like your shirts? You don’t see tits like that every century.”

Steve blushes. He backs away a fraction, self-conscious again. “Maybe I should wear something bigger…”

“No!” Tony objects firmly, catching him by the shoulders. “You wear those shirts Natasha bought you, or so help me J.A.R.V.I.S., I will shrink them myself.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “You like them that much?”

“They are a gift to mankind.”

“Are you talking about the shirts, or my ...tits,” he deadpans, faltering on the word ‘tits’ like a goddamned boyscout.

“Both.”

He sighs. And would you look at that, Cap brushed his teeth this morning. His breath is sweet and minty-fresh. 

The silence stretches out between them. Tony wants to say something, but his brain-to-mouth filter is apparently completely gone, and he doesn’t want to fuck this up any more than he already has. Cap seems to be on the edge of saying [or  _ doing] _ something, but he’s staring at an invisible something to his upper-right, his eyebrows creased, mouth shut, so close that if Tony ‘lost his balance’ for a second they’d be kissing, and Tony is debating whether or not to do this when Cap’s eyes finally fix on him.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

Well, mission accomplished on that, but Cap doesn’t sound very  _ happy _ about it. “What if I was?”

Cap’s expression shifts into something heavy. He backs away. “Then I’d say I’m… relieved?” He crosses his arms under those massive tits. He’s not looking at Tony. “I wouldn’t want to compromise our friendship.” 

Cap’s voice sounds distant. He seems  _ very _ closed-off. 

Tony fucked this up. Tony  _ knew _ he’d fuck this up. It was only a matter of time.  _ Fuck. _ “Me neither.” Tony stands, stretches, and takes a step away from the couch. “Welp, now that that’s settled, I’m heading to the lab. Seeya!”

“Wait!” Steve’s hand catches Tony’s wrist.

Tony’s heart pounds in his throat. He’s managed to make it halfway across the room, and Steve caught up to him like it was nothing. “What is it, Cap? Make it fast, I’m kinda busy.”

Cap steps closer, his grip easing slightly on Tony’s wrist. “You still need to sleep.”

“I don’t need sleep. I need to finish this thing for Pepper.”

Steve crosses in front of him. “Pepper would want you to take care of yourself.” His hands find their way to Tony’s shoulders again. They’re like warm lead weights. “She’ll understand if your gift is a little late.”

Tony sighs loudly. “You never give up, do you, Cap.”

Steve’s mouth tics up. “Nope.”

Tony tries to push past. Steve doesn’t budge. “Any chance I could  _ pay _ you to step out of my way?”

“Not likely.”

“Shawarma? Massage? Ticket to Japan?  _ Anything?” _

Steve pretends to consider this. His lips are pursed and Tony still wants to kiss them. Apparently he’s going to have to get over that.

“A massage does sound good.”

“Great!” Tony is relieved. “I’ll set you up with my massage therapist. She’s great. Or I could arrange for a male masseuse, if that’s really more your thing. Not really sure how you feel about people looking at your naked bod--”

“-from  _ you, _ Tony,” Steve interrupts. “Right here.”

Tony can’t believe he’s hearing this.

“Right now.”

What even is Tony’s life.

Tony sighs. “All right. But you’re gonna have to turn around. And let go of my shoulders.”

The Eyebrow goes up. “You’re not gonna run away?”

Tony holds up one hand. “I promise I will  _ not _ run away.”

“All right,” Steve says doubtfully. He slowly lowers his hands.

Tony has half a thought to bolt, but his biggest man-crush  _ did _ just basically say ‘hey, Tony, please put your hands all over my perfectly sculpted body,’ and really, how can he say no to that? “Brace yourself, Cap.” Tony rolls up his sleeves unnecessarily. “You are in for the best massage of your  _ life.” _

“I dunno,” Captain Sass drawls, “Bucky was pretty good.”

“Gross, Cap. I do  _ not _ need to hear about your love-life from the ‘40s.”

That was intended as a jab, but it seems to have struck a nerve. Steve’s spine has seized into a straight, tight rod, and his shoulders have slumped. He can’t see Cap’s face right now, but he’d be willing to bet he’s staring off into the distance with a tragic look on his face.

“I had scoliosis,” Steve says unexpectedly. Tony isn’t sure if he heard him right. “-in the ‘40s,” Steve goes on. “I was sore every day, all day. All the time.” And he is  _ definitely _ staring off into the distance now. “Bucky worked on the docks. I tried to hold down a job, but it was hard, with all my health problems. I kept getting fired because I took too much sick leave. So it was mostly up to Bucky to earn the rent. I felt bad about this, but Bucky… he said it was the least he could do. Always thought things were going to get better.”

Tony’s hands are still on Cap’s shoulders. He lets Cap continue, “I did as much as I could, to carry my weight-- well.” Cap lets out a bitter ‘heh.’ “To earn my keep, as well as I could. Bucky would come home sore every day. He was always lifting more than he should, working long hours so he could earn enough cash to feed both of us, keep a roof over our heads. He’d complain all the time about how his back was killing him. And I knew how that felt, better than anybody. So, I offered to give him a massage.” Sadness weighs down Cap’s shoulders a fraction more. “He said it felt great. But he insisted I got one, too. So… we both learned how to give a massage.”

“So you lived together?” Tony interjects, attempting to steer them into a less depressing subject.

Cap’s tone stays about as light as an approaching thunderstorm. “I tried to get by on my own, after my ma died. Bucky wouldn’t let me. He insisted I move in.”

“That had to be fun though, right? Living with your best friend?”

“It was great, sometimes,” Steve admits, and  _ finally, _ Tony thinks, we’re moving onto a more pleasant subject. “But Bucky and I… didn’t always see eye-to-eye.”

“You get into a lot of fights?” Tony says lightly, working the muscles of Steve’s broad shoulders.

Steve’s tragic laugh really ought to have been a forewarning. “He brought a different girl home every night of the week. Kept insisting I come with him on these double-dates. The girls he set me up with never looked at me twice. Seemed like they thought the whole thing was an imposition, a mistake. Weren’t too interested in a guy they could step on.”

“So you were short. Big deal. I’m sure you got  _ plenty _ of girls after that serum.”

Steve huffs out a tragic snort. Really, how can the guy  _ snort _ tragically? “-Oh, sure, I got  _ plenty _ of interested parties after the serum. But that didn’t fix a thing.”

“I think it fixed a  _ few _ things.” Tony is, after, all, kneading literally perfect muscles.

“Bucky was jealous,” Steve says heavily.

“Of what, all this?” Tony gestures at Steve’s torso. “Who  _ wouldn’t _ be jealous of that? But hey, if Buckles couldn’t get over that, he was kind of a shitty friend.”

“That’s not what he was jealous of,” Steve says quietly, gravely serious.

“What?” Tony tries to piece together what Steve is saying. “Your title? He was kind of a war hero, too, did he not know that?”

“He was jealous of the attention I got.” Steve’s tone, if anything, gets  _ more _ tragic. “When we were growing up, he was all I had. Bucky had lots of other friends, but me… He was all I had. And I think he got used to that idea. When I started getting other friends, Bucky… he hated them.”

“No offense there, Cap, but that sounds like kind of a red flag.”

“It’s not-!” Cap glares at him sharply over his shoulder. But he cuts himself off, looks away again, and looks sad. “It’s not like that.”

“Guy gets jealous of you making other friends? That’s not exactly healthy.”

“He wasn’t jealous that they were my friends.”

“Then what? You’re not making a lot of sense here, Cap.”

“He wanted…” Cap bows his head, closes his eyes. “The night before he died, Bucky told me the dames had always been a front. That he’d never been interested in them the way he was supposed to. That he tried-” Cap’s voice breaks. “He tried so many times. And he said kissing was nice, but… the only one he ever really wanted to kiss was  _ me. _ ”

Tony can’t believe he’s hearing this. “So did you?” He waves a hand. “You know, kiss?”

“I didn’t know what to think.” And oh no, that’s Steve’s I’m-Beating-Myself-Up-For-This tone. “...I was quiet for too long. He rolled over, said ‘forget about it,’ and went to sleep.” Cap swallows audibly. “I keep thinking… If I’d said something, if I somehow could have said… Maybe he wouldn’t have… fallen. That maybe I could have saved him, if he just knew… I wanted that too.”

“Jesus, Steve. Why didn’t you just tell him?!”

Steve is quiet for a long moment. “It wasn’t…” He hesitates. “It wasn’t the way it is now, back in the ‘40s. If two guys wanted to do that, back then… it was more than just frowned upon. They could be murdered, or arrested. And they would  _ definitely _ be ostracized.” He glances over his shoulder at Tony. “You’re lucky people aren’t treated that way now.”

“So, wait. You’re telling me the Conservative Posterboy for America is actually  _ gay?” _

“Bisexual.” Steve settles his shoulders back and stops slumping. “And yes.”

“So the rumors about you and Agent Carter  _ were _ true.”

“Don’t know which ones you’ve heard,” Steve says, and  _ yes, _ that is sarcasm! Tony does a mental victory dance. “But yes.  _ Some _ of them were true.”

“The one about the threesome with my old man?”

There’s a beat of silence. “Except that one.”

“Fair enough.” Tony pats Steve’s back. “Tell me another story, Gramps. You and Binky get up to anything else in the ‘40s?”

“I think that’s enough about Bucky for today.” Steve turns around.

“Aw.” Tony pretends to be disappointed. “At least tell me how I compare?”

Steve gives Tony a long, considering look. “Well,” he says slowly, “you both love science. You both have a quick mouth. And you’re both very popular with the ladies.”

Tony quashes whatever feeling that was rising in his chest. “I meant the massage, Cap.”

“Oh.” Steve rotates one shoulder. “Not bad.”

“Damn. I’ll have to practice that.”

And there goes Steve’s tragic smile. “You do that.”

Fuck. Fuck. How to make him smile? -Not like  _ that. That _ is not a real smile.  _ That _ is the kind of smile you give just after you find out your grandma died, and you’re trying to pretend everything’s okay. 

Tony slaps Steve on the shoulder. “I might need to use you as a test subject though. Robots,” Tony winces, “Not really the best receivers for deep-tissue massage.”

That sad smile softens, just a little bit. “I’m sure you could build one, if you tried.”

“I admire your faith in me, but I  _ was _ hitting on you a little there, Cap. Get with the times. Hitting on people as a joke is a thing now.” Tony’s hand is still on Steve’s shoulder. “It’s like, part of the code for male bonding. You make such close friends, people speculate if you’re gay. People ask if me and Rhodey are gay all the time. But Rhodey sucks at playing along. He always corrects them  _ way _ too fast. It’s a little insulting, frankly. I mean. What’s not to love?” He gestures at himself expansively with his free hand. He kind of wonders how long he can leave that hand on Cap’s shoulder before it gets weird.

Cap’s eyes soften more. He must be doing  _ something _ right. 

But then Cap’s smile goes distant, his eyes shuttered. “There’s a lot about you to love, Tony.”

“I know.” Tony puffs out his chest. “I am  _ very _ lovable, thank you.”

Cap chuckles, but it  _ still _ sounds sad. He reaches up with one hand and lays it on top of Tony’s, wraps the tips of his fingers around the tips of Tony’s, and gently pries Tony’s hand off of his shoulder. “And for the record,” he says, “I never thought you and Rhodey were gay.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Well that’s because Rhodey’s  _ not. _ He is  _ very _ much a red-blooded heterosexual.”

“But you?” Steve asks, and the level of interest sends a shiver to Tony’s groin.

“I,” Tony says with extreme casualness, “am what the kids call ‘pansexual.’ I don’t give a fuck what someone’s gender is. If someone’s hot, I want to tap that ass. Hot is hot. Gender’s got nothing to do with it.”

“Hm.” Steve considers this for a moment. “Well… I’m still getting used to the idea that there are more than two genders. But I think that might fit me, as well.”

Tony grins. “There you go! Getting all progressive. -Oh man!” Tony has a great thought. “Just wait until the conservative talk shows find out about this! Their All-American Posterboy digs other poster boys!”

Steve rolls his eyes. “One thing at a time, Tony. I think the rest of the world is still getting used to the idea that I’m  _ alive. _ ”

“Yeah, yeah. Alive, and ready to fuck  _ other men. _ ” Tony waggles his eyebrows.

Steve blushes like the adorable virgin he probably is. “Thanks, Tony.”

“You are  _ very _ welcome, if you know what I mean.” He waggles his eyebrows again.

Steve sighs. “Not sure if I’m ready to flirt jokingly yet, Tony.” He gives a rueful smile. “You  _ did _ just kind of turn me down.”

Tires screech in Tony’s brain. “Wait.” He missed something. He missed something  _ big. _ “Back up. Rewind-- did you just say  _ I _ turned  _ you down?” _ His finger is poking Cap between his perfect pecs and everything feels weird and floaty and  _ what the fuck just happened? _

“Yes?” Steve raises an eyebrow. He actually looks kind of  _ disappointed. _

_ What. _

“When.” Maybe it’s the sleep. Maybe it’s the caffeine. But Tony is  _ definitely _ missing something.

“When you said you were joking about wanting to make out with me.”

“Okay, see, joking about something and actually wanting to do something  _ can _ be the same thing at the same time.”

The Eyebrow goes up. “So you  _ were  _ flirting.”

“Maybe.” Tony tries to search Cap’s poker face. “Possibly. Depends. -Do you  _ want _ to make out?”

“You need sleep, Tony.” Cap looks away.

“I’m not hearing a ‘no’ here.”

Distant eyes meet his. Determination squares his jaw. There’s something disappointed about his face. “You said you want to make out because I’m  _ pretty.” _

Tony’s eyes fly open wide. “Yes! You’re pretty, and tall, and sexy, and hot, and brave and stubborn and wonderful and funny and a  _ badass _ on the battlefield and wait- you-- you’re stepping closer. Did I-?”

“So you don’t just like me because I’m pretty?”

“Oh my  _ god _ you are such a  _ girl!” _

Steve kisses him.

Tony isn’t exactly sure where he went right, but he’s glad things are fixed, and he’s  _ very _ glad that Captain Perfect-face is kissing him right now, so he closes his eyes and just  _ goes _ with it.

And wouldn’t you know? Steve actually isn’t a bad kisser. Damn. It’s like he’s done this before. Tony kind of wonders how many people Cap  _ has _ kissed. The guy really seems to know what he’s doing. There’s a decent amount of pressure, not too hard but not too soft, and his hands adorably don’t seem to know what to do, but his  _ mouth _ sure does, and then his large, warm hands are encircling Tony’s upper arms and holding him in place gently and Steve is hesitantly opening his mouth and all actual thought flees after that.

Tony loses track of time.

He loses himself in Captain America’s mouth.

Everything feels swirly and surreal and  _ amazing _ and next thing he knows, he’s laying down on a couch. A very amorous Steve Rogers is  _ on top  _ of him, and he’s going in for another kiss.

*

Two hours later, Steve Rogers is sitting on the couch, calmly, with a remote in his hand, and a sleeping Tony on his lap. Steve Rogers has a poker face in place and looks entirely too casual and serene for a guy who has Tony Stark’s sleeping head resting on his thigh. “Uh.” Clint pushes his purple sunglasses up his nose.  _ “Some _ one had an interesting night.”

Cap turns slightly. “Morning, Clint.” He gives Clint a nod.

Clint opens his mouth to ask about Tony or make some blowjob innuendo or something, but he decides he hasn’t had enough coffee for this. “Morning,” is all he says. He heads into the kitchen.

Steve remains on the couch, calmly watching the news, one hand holding the remote, the other cradling Tony’s shoulder.

Tony sleeps on, unaware.


End file.
